


Never Just Anything

by MccoyKat



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Language, Modern Era, Sickfic, Slash if you squint, nurse!enjolras, sick!grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1997889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MccoyKat/pseuds/MccoyKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantiare heard the always unpleasant sound of forced laughter, but he could barely make it out over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears.</p>
<p>Was that all he was to Enjolras? A reference for some internship?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Just Anything

Enjolras was always so military. Grantaire just wasn't. Most of the time they paired up room mates by habit or course. How Grantaire, working towards a fine arts degree, ended up with Enjolras, the honors law student, he'd never know. He had taken the personality quiz, and Enjolras had assured him that he had as well. Their habits didn't match up at all. But as long as his paint or clay never made it onto any of Enjolras' papers, and he didn't actually vomit in their room after a night of partying, Enjolras didn't care what he did. By the end of first year they'd even formed a hazy sort of friendship, and agreed to room together the year after.

By fourth year they had actually turned into good friends. Enjolras helping him study the year before to make it into his honors program, and in return Grantaire had dedicated his final project to him.By the first set of exams in their last year, the pieces were still in the school gallery.

How Grantaire had managed to get himself this sick also confused him. School hadn't really started back up in earnest after the winter break, and here he was, literally spilling his guts into the bucket he'd thought enough to bring to his bedside when he'd been feeling off the night before. Never had he been happier movie theatres offered up special buckets of popcorn with certain movies. He was shaking, and he knew his boxers and sheets were soaked with sweat. And he felt so hot. The fever burned in him as he curled into himself, moaning at the pain the movement caused him.

Enjolras returned back from his morning run, a small sheen of sweat covering his skin as well. He barely stepped foot into his dorm when he wrinkled his nose at the smell.

“Grantiare, what -” He stopped when he saw his roommate.

Enjolras had always been military, so in control of everything, so it probably shouldn't have surprised Grantaire when Enjolras promptly threw back his covers and bodily supported him to their small bathroom. He turned the shower on, making it reach that warm temperature that always alluded Grantaire. He either got chills or burns from their shower. He then helped Grantaire's shaking legs find the shower, who didn't stop the soft gasp that he let out when the warm water eased the ache in his muscles. Enjolras helped him sit down in the shower, and them made to leave the room.

“I'll uh, I'll call that girl you share classes with – C...Cosette Right? Don't move, because if you have what Joly was talking about yesterday, the heat is good for your muscles.” Enjolras flashed him a small smile then left the bathroom.

He heard Enjolras making a quick, polite, phone call to Cosette. He also heard some shuffling around their dorm. He came back into the bathroom, just before the water got cold, and pulled Grantaire out and helped him dry off. Even held his arm and turned his head while Grantaire changed into a new set of boxers. When he was pulled back into the main room of their dorm, he noted that somehow he sheets had been changed, a towel was laying over his pillows, the bucket had been washed out, and a hot water bottle and a regular water bottle were on his bedside table.

When Grantaire was settled back in bed, clutching the hot water bottle close to himself, Enjolras sat in his bed across. Grantaire didn't think he saw any sheets on his roommates bed.

“I called Cosette, she said she's going to copy her notes for you, and I've sorted my day out so I can stay with you for most of today.” Enjolras hurried forward in his thought when it looked like Grantaire was going to protest, “Joly was talking about something going around last night. It hits hard, but he said that it at least hits fast.” Enjolras continued, giving a tight lipped smile, “I'm going to have a shower, you try and get some sleep.”

The warm around him was so comfortable, that Grantaire just nodded sleepily at Enjolras.

When he woke up, somewhere in the early afternoon by his judgment, he barely had time to find the bucket before he heaved into it. He didn't have anything left in his stomach, but the bile burned its way up his throat. He wiped at his mouth with a corner of the towel, and then kept his head away from it as he shakily wiped away at the tears that were a reaction he always got from throwing up.

Enjolras was on the phone, just outside their dorm. “Yeah,” He was saying, and he always got a strange tone of voice when he was talking to another law student, seemed more nasally and forced than usual, “My roommate managed to get himself sick... Hell if I know how... Tell John I'm sorry, but if someone in the board calls my roommate as a reference... You know I need this to get that internship... Shit! No kidding?... Yeah, they are important... Well hell, with that story, no wonder they're being so picky... I don't fucking know how they expect us to keep a social life with what they're asking of us... Well if I had then I wouldn't have had to ask my fucking roommate... Yeah. Thank god he's in honors, at least...”

Grantiare heard the always unpleasant sound of forced laughter, but he could barely make it out over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears.

Was that all he was to Enjolras? A reference for some internship?

“Yeah, thanks Paul. Talk to you later.” Then the door to their dorm was opened. Enjolras took in the whole picture in about two seconds.

“... You heard that, didn't you?” Was all he asked, his voice flat.

“A bloody fucking reference.” Was all Grantaire replied, his voice hard.

The day Enjolras had asked him to be a reference for his internship application had been a good one. Enjolras had finally valued his opinion enough to include him in something important. Even if later that night at the bar Montpernasse had teased him, saying it was just because he was so clearly in love with his roommate that he'd obviously give a glowing review. Montpernasse's loss really, seeing as Grantaire hadn't been back to that bar since.

“Not just a reference. Never  _just_ anything. Grantaire, that was Paul.” The name seemed vaguely familiar, someone important to something Enjolras did, “If he found out I have some sort of sense of morals, you know he'd eat me alive.”

“So your helping me out because of some moral ground, great.” Grantaire's voice was still hard and Enjolras flinched, as if the tone had actually hit him.

“Listen, Grantaire, you know that's not right. I – I've known you for years, and if I want to help you out when -” Enjolras paused.

Grantaire attacked, as long as he kept his words coming faster than the tears fell, he could save some dignity, “Help out someone you've known, great, thanks. Glad you can find me so fucking useful. God, do you even hear yourself? When you talk to them it's like nothing outside of your fucking corporate world even exists. The sun clearly shines out of Paul's ass. Maybe if you weren't so two faced, then maybe I might be able to trust you about this! Why the fuck would you even try this, Enjolras?”

Grantaire got out of bed, standing carefully on trembling legs. He hated being looked down at when arguing.

“I don't -” Enjolras started softly, his back was straight as a board, and his automatic transition back to the posture beaten into him in military school meant that Grantaire had hit a nerve in Enjolras. Somewhere, he noted and held that information.

“Why the fuck would you try to convince me that you wanted to help? Hell, maybe you do want to help, but only if it gives something for your businessy friends to pity you for! 'Poor fucker had to take care of his lazy ass roommate.'” Grantaire's imitation of a business man made Enjolras flinch. “Why even bother with me, Enjolras? Go find someone clearly worth your fucking time!”

Grantaire's voice spiraled up and out of his normal range. The volume of his words weren't something he normally considered, but these ones were loud, even he could tell.

He wasn't sure what happened, but suddenly he was on his side, and Enjolras was still on the other side of the room. From what he could tell through his swimming vision, anyway.

“Oh my goodness! Are you alright?” Then his roommate was at his side, helping him up.

When they'd roomed together during their first year, Grantaire had teased him mercilessly about how wholesome he got when flustered. Before he'd met Enjolras, he never thought anyone actually said goodness and gosh after they turned ten.

Grantaire was still mad, and still, he noted angrily, fucking crying.

Then he was back in his bed, and Enjolras was tucking him in. He was making soothing noises, and Grantiare felt himself relax without giving himself permission to. Then Enjolras was sitting beside him.

“Ok Sh. Can you focus on me? Grantaire, can your eyes focus?” There was a sense of urgency to what Enjolras was saying, but Grantaire couldn't bring himself to focus on the words.

Enjolras was gone.

Then he was back. There was a thermometer in his one hand, and he carefully opened Grantaire's mouth with the other. The thermometer was stuck under his tongue. It didn't taste good.

“Sh. Stop moving, just keep this there, for me, please?” Enjolras asked, his voice was shaking slightly.

Grantaire stopped trying to get away from the thing in his mouth. After an endless moment, Enjolras pulled the thing from his mouth, and then there was a phone in Enjolras' hand.

“Combeferre?”

Then there was another set of hands. Moving and prodding. Then a small groan of relief when his world cleared again.

Combeferre was standing over him. He looked as exhausted as Grantaire felt. Enjolras was beside him, his face a picture of pure joy.

“You're fever just broke... It's been nine hours since the – ah, phone call,” Enjolras said helpfully.

“Can I go to sleep?” Grantiare mumbled, his voice low and rough.

Combeferre nodded, “A little bit of water first, then yeah, feel free.”

Enjolras helped him with the water, then, when Grantaire settled down into his bed, Combeferre left the dorm.

“Never _just_ anything.” Enjolras said quietly.

“Wha?” Grantaire asked, not even bothering to finish the word.

“Earlier, you said I thought you were just a reference. You were never just anything. And I wouldn't do this for just anybody, alright?” There was a pause. “Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Grantaire said as he surrendered to sleep, “I think I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> This Enjolras is based off of Mark Uhre's Enjolras in Toronto last winter. Grantaire is John Rapson's, from the same production.


End file.
